Flashes
by Hiei's Cute Girl
Summary: Sometimes, Bruce thought he could spot something more hidden beneath the smiles of one Harleen Quinzel.


**Flashes**

**Summary: Sometimes, Bruce thought he could spot something more hidden beneath the smiles of one Harleen Quinzel. **

_**Events and timeline taken from the Harley Quinn comic book strip of the Batman Universe (books one through thirty-eight) and the sequence of The Clown at Midnight.**_

**In honor of my bi-monthly comic book weekend, o how I love thee. I also spammed the word DANGEROUS, because Batsy just loves that word when it comes to Harley. **

* * *

**One-Shot  
The Jester's Joke**

Bruce Wayne, currently disguised as one of his many criminal aliases, Jack Delafonté, sat among those gathered by Harley Quinn in her new gang. After her split from the Joker, she'd been making herself troublesome to many authorities. A threesome of private eyes had been chasing her high and low on her many heists, some ridiculous, others ridiculously high-paying. She flew randomly from one objective to the other, making herself a difficult target to predict and catch…

And this made her very wanted by various other gangs that did not agree of her sudden intrusion into their world. No one could deny Harley was smart, strong and attractive. The pale make-up and checkered suit did nothing to hide the radiance of a once psychiatric genius and gymnastics star. Perfectly disciplined, strengthened by Poison Ivy's serum, an IQ that ranked among the high hundreds and charisma to boot, Harley was _dangerous_. If she properly applied herself, she could provide him true tons of trouble.

Granted, she did him a lot of grief as the Joker's sometimes lover, spy and second in command; but though she'd never proven herself a leader, she had outwitted him twice as many times as her male counterpart. Harleen Quinzel was _dangerous_, but since she lived by a set of rules even the Joker could not delve into, she hardly made herself noted. But even for Batman, keeping tabs on her was the only way to keep those sharp claws of hers at bay. She was as formidable as the hyenas she adored and worth taking the time to look into every two weeks.

Truth was, he didn't totally buy her split from the Joker until a few days ago, when the Joker had contacted her for a job in the most roundabout way, somehow insulting her and setting Harley on a veritable _valkyrja_ warpath, leaving two of Joker's men dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft with one heavily wounded Joker lying on top of them. After their many fights and mad love affair, Harley had always gone running back to the Joker. No matter how many times he tried to kill her, Harley forgave him time and time again. But this time, it seemed like it was the Joker who was doing the chasing.

And Harley was determined to stay well away from him and his ways… or so it seemed. It had turned out worrisome enough for him to turn to one of his previously established personas and infiltrate their base as a new member. Thankfully, one of their own had just died and a new spot had been opened, but after five days of spending time with Lewis and Buster, along with other well known henchmen he recognized, he was starting to grow honestly bored. It seemed Harley often kept to her own agenda and managed to leave her ragtag group of hastily patched together men mostly out of it.

The softest of footsteps caught his attention beyond the poker game he'd been dominating, and within moments, Harley strode in, bringing a burst of color and energy to the dreary conglomeration of men in the room. She was smiling from ear to ear and followed by her beloved pets, which seemed as personable as puppy dogs under her gentle hand. Dressed in her usual checkered suit, she spoke directly to them.

"Gentlemen, your wait is over, I found us a job!" She announced cheerfully, spanning her arms akimbo and conveying enthusiasm like some sort of malicious disease. The rest of the men, he included, winced and flinched, cowed by the vicious display of feminine instability and a smile with too many teeth. Only Lewis stood and bravely faced her, folding his cards on the table and calmly addressing her. Bruce quickly deduced him to be the second in command… and aptly guessed that this man probably worked with the Joker more than once, considering his diplomacy and the confident yet deferent manner he handled himself around her.

"Oh? What'cha got there, Harley?" his posture was casual as he approached and Batman was surprised to see Harley's smile visibly soften when Lewis became the focus of her attention. It seemed she was wary of her own team and right to be so, since even he could sense the general unease and tension in the room. Lewis was a different matter for her and Bruce was later shocked to learn what Harley had spotted from the beginning.

Only Lewis, ever the sweetheart, had been truly loyal to her. And, sadly, the only one who probably would ever understand her.

Regardless, Bruce did not know this now, so it was a mystery he would file away for inspection at a later date. Still, he did realize that once Lewis became a visible and physical barrier between Harley and her men, everyone seemed to relax. Sure, Harley could down Lewis with a single blow and would probably do so happily and laughing all the while, but small comforts were enough to trigger the reaction. He could also attribute it to the fact that most of these men probably thought they could snap their guns out while Lewis entertained Harley for a split second.

They couldn't be more wrong.

Thus, without even realizing it, Bruce tensed up in preparation. Due to the visual block of Lewis, Bruce did not see the flash of soft baby blue eyes in his direction. Harley paused in her conversation about her plans with Lewis to stare at the new member curiously, freely gawking over his shoulder. Lewis obligingly moved away to reveal Jack Delafonté and introduced him as such. Jack stepped forward, offering an easygoing smile and a handshake.

Harley merely offered him an open stare and a crooked smile. "You're not from around here, are you, pumpkin?" Jack's hand fell back down, something Bruce had already expected, since Harley was not known to be overly physical with others unless she was vying for something in her favor… or it was Poison Ivy. Pamela got her fare share of surprise embraces and American pro-football worthy tackle hugs from one very happy Harley.

Since he was a stranger, Bruce was not offered a handshake, but Harley freely gave a how-dee-doo and a megawatt smile. Then she was looking him over, smile only a little stiffer than before, and she glanced at Lewis from the corners of her eyes.

"Lewis, git out. I wanna talk to the new guy. Gotta give him a little hazin' and questionin' and a bit o' afternoon tea." She ordered, turning her head just a little and finally taking her eyes of off him. Bruce almost breathed easy, but refrained. He was still on hot coals, especially since Lewis looked so confused.

"But, Harley-…" she rebuffed his question as she glanced at her wrist and laughed, noting the hour despite her lack of a watch.

"Oh, silly me, we'll have some evenin' tea," she giggled and shooed Lewis with her red gloved hand, insisting.

Still, Lewis hovered worriedly. "Harls, I can vouch for this man. We've worked together before and Billy swears he's reliable. You don't have to-," again she cut him off, but this time she turned to fully face the stammering black man. Whatever expression she had on her face, it shut Lewis' mouth quick.

Her voice was overly sweet and spelled a thousand kinds of trouble. "Lewis, git."

Cowed, Lewis herded the men out the door, nodding and dropping apologies. Within moments, only he was at the door. Their eyes met… Bruce's own calm electric blue eyes behind his sunglasses and Lewis' deeply worried mahogany gaze. "Call me when you're done, Harley. We can prepare for the job then."

The door closed with a sense of finality and for an instant, Bruce felt his pulse jump with anticipation. When she looked at him, her gaze was sharper than he remembered and her smile a little more predatory around the edges. Distance from the Joker had caused changes in the wily femme. She walked towards him, stride steady and just a little deadly. His body, trained and trimmed by experience, begged to tense and spring into action. It took every ounce of control to force his corded muscles to relax into any semblance of normalcy.

She passed him by mere inches, and when their gazes were side by side, she let the other shoe drop. "Hey there, Batsy."

His entire body froze, surprised she recognized him, and he could only turn his head as she reached the sofa, turned, and flopped down gracelessly. Long legs crossed and she sat up, ever as composed, eyes assessing as she seemed to analyze his every gesture. He fought a shiver, fighting the rising sense of battle readiness. Just being in the same room as her had him on edge, a side effect of her psychologist schooling. His own sagacious analysis of her rendered an open figure, though a little authoritative and very smug. He knew very well that her sitting position would not cost her a tenth of a millisecond in getting up and kicking him straight across the face, and he also recognized that playing dumb would not get him anywhere. She had asked her goons to leave, which meant she was confident in her assessment of his identity.

This woman truly is _dangerous_.

"You knew," it was not a question.

She gestured to the single seat sofa adjacent to her own. Bruce did not come closer, instead choosing the advantage of distance as he tucked his hands in his pockets and angled his body a little to the left to avoid her spotting the glow of the transmitter in his pants. Should things get ugly, Tim was waiting just outside to drop in and help. For now, he only planned to record this conversation.

She gave him a flat stare, clearly displeased by his bad manners, but she got over it in seconds. "Of course, Batsy. You may not be wearing your usual mask, but you're wearing a mask none the less. You're as handsome as I thought you'd be. Now sit yourself down, call off little red bird-boy and batsy girl, and take off those damn sunglasses." She instructed gravely, leaning into the arm rest and placing her chin on her hand. "I ain't got no need for your secret identity, see? If you're not out and fighting, my puddin' won't have his fun. I'll even take off my own mask and make-up, just for you."

He was surprised Tim had brought Cassandra and even more so that Harley had detected her presence. Batgirl was superhuman and a rare specimen of crime fighter beyond most of Harley's ilk. But the blonde managed to surprise him.

As she promised, she removed her mask and make-up, even taking off her head gear and letting loose her cherry blonde hair in the process. It fell over slim shoulders in delicate and slightly voluminous waves, proof that she was too young to be facing him. He, though, did not come close nor did he remove his glasses. He did nod to his colleagues outside, hoping to communicate that he did not want them to back-off, just to stand-down. Knowing Tim, he would guess his intentions accurately. The boy was smart.

"That does not cut it; I already know who you are, Harleen. And you no longer work in favor of the Joker, last I heard." He stated, tone cold and monotonous, fully dropping the clever and personable identity of Jack Delafonté.

Her following smile was just a smidge victorious and Bruce wondered if this had been what she had wanted all along. Then it was replaced by something that sent his instincts promptly into a full, heady adrenalin rush. "Sharp ears, Batsy."

The silence was deafening and he could almost feel his will hardening as she took her time to eye him up. Like she decided to trust him, she sighed, shaking her head.

"Yes, my puddin' and I have not been seeing eye to eye, lately. Last I seen him, he was hanging from that elevator telephone after the bottom dropped out. Pity, too, I hate accidents like those, don't you?" She looked truly mournful, and Batman was beginning to question his sources that told him she'd been the one who planted the bomb on that elevator. Then her baby blues rose to meet his, and the cold, hard steel revealed the insincerity of her words. "So pathetically easy to instigate and kill a poor innocent person, no?"

She craned her neck to the side, looking out the window and cracking her neck in a gesture of utter relaxation. Harley looked back at him, a bored expression on her face. "I told you to call off the rugrats, Batsy. I won't be held responsible for the death of another one of your babies, and scorched bird and rat seem to be on the menu."

The growl of two full grown hyenas almost startled him, reminding him they were still in the room with them. One seemed father than the other, but he did not risk looking. Her gaze captivated him and despite the threat of savannah predators, he knew she was the most _dangerous_ creature in the room. Outside a bomb went off along with an eerie song of yips and laughs that were not coming from the canines in the chamber. Like a terrifying song of death, the hyena in the room joined the hunting song from their brethren outside, chilling Batman to the bone.

"Check," Harley declared, tapping a single finger against her knee, eyes dancing as she gazed at him. "Attention, center stage, Batsy. It's still just you and me." His eyes focused on her, and Lord knows how, she knew because she smiled at him again. Sometimes, with Harleen, it was hard to tell where one smile ended and the other began.

His brain was catching up with him as his heart and reason battled against one another. Robin and Batgirl could take care of themselves, he didn't need to hold their hands, and he had his own opponents to face. However, Dr. Quinzel was not a genius because people liked calling her that. Her mention of Jason rekindled old insecurities and he needed to cool his head to keep his wits about him. Once his emotions were under control, he checked himself and straightened. Harley's baby blues positively glowed with pleasure and her fingers danced to a jig only she could hear over her knee.

"Oh, Batsy…" she paused, her eyes flashed and darkened, "I can't express what a pleasure it is to have you here," her voice had changed, as had her usual Brooklyn accent and colloquialisms. She spoke formally and he finally came face to face with the woman she used to be before the Joker tainted her. Her eyes were crystalline clear, like rivers, and he found himself resisting the desire to step forward and sit down, just to please her. Then, within seconds it was gone, as the hyenas shattered whatever state she'd fallen into and she laughed along with them.

"Do you hear that, Batsy? My babies are celebrating a kill," she told him in a stage whisper, smiling deliriously as she did so. She stood, every inch the trained gymnast, but teetering a little with mental instability he recognized. She walked to the window, turning her back to him, but her hyenas crossed to stand behind her, protecting her back from surprise attacks. He could throw something at her, but he knew the angle at which she stood and the colors beyond the window gave her a reliable reflection of him on the glass. He wouldn't be able to do a single thing without her knowing or her panting canines jumping to use powerful maws to crush his bones. Without his suit, their attack was no longer a calculated risk, but a real threat. Harley knew that, which was why she kept them between herself and danger.

Batman was famous for adapting in impossible situations, but Harleen had been with the Joker long enough to know that the only way to work with a pliant Batman was to give him _one_ way out instead of closing all of his options down. Batman was notorious for finding his way out of anything if forced, using any method necessary to bring the situation back into his control. Like any methodical planner, if nothing was in his hands, Batman overthrew the table and brought it careening back into his chokehold grasp. Given at least one possible escape route or course of action, Batman would remain exactly where you wanted him.

The way to the door was clear with her babies at her back, but she knew that open door out would be too easy. His way to her was blocked and he knew she was too fast for him to keep up with or pin down at this distance and with his every movement in clear view. Without the Joker around to keep her on a leash, that she could very well end him was another worrisome detail. He could overtake her if he was truly determined, but he did not favor that option either. He'd yet to find out what he'd come for and he wasn't going to leave empty handed.

He stayed right where he was.

The sparkle in Harley's eyes was back and it took every ounce of control in Bruce not to snap and make her cower under his might. But he was well aware that this woman has immune to death threats and violence in general, whether it was physical or psychological. Having been the constant companion of the Joker for many years, Harley Quinn was a hardy soldier and a confident enemy. She, like her once-lover, was completely unafraid of him.

That took away his usual advantage over most of his enemies, like the Penguin or Two-Face, who would rather run for the hills than face him in a true fight.

"I am aware of the way Gotham's Underworld has its beady eyes on me," Harley began, turning to look at him as the cries and yips outside quieted back into a peaceful sunset. The colors outside lightened and painted her hair, bouncing from her unruly curls and Kevlar, custom made suit. He watched her dispassionately, detached and calm. She returned it and he saw another flash of Harleen Quinzel, hidden beneath the folds of a personality that fooled even the Joker. "They have one insider in the group, a hothead I never bothered to diffuse. I know who it is; I know what they're planning, when and where."

She turned to fully face him, crouching to pat the happily panting hyenas, but her eyes still held his. Like any well trained martial artist, he'd never truly left her field of vision. It was unnerving and exciting to be given the treatment he normally gave to others. "I also know I don't have the muscle power or money to oppose them and that in the end, I'll be the only survivor in my little group."

This time, her smile provoked a jerk in his arm he couldn't stop, it was too steep and too frightening, awakening instincts and raw need for survival. There were more teeth in her smile and more threat than ever before, the Harleen he'd seen suddenly clouded and hidden from view by the jester in her checkered clothing and blood colored lips.

"I'm still allowing it to go on," she informed him, standing and walking over to him very slowly, as if to prove she was harmless. The hyena parted and stayed at her back, covering her from any attacks from the window. She didn't seem to notice, but Bruce knew the woman was not blind to a single detail going on around her.

It was almost tragic that she'd fallen prey to the venom the Joker seemed to enjoy passing on to everyone around him. Had they ever met under different circumstances, Bruce did not doubt that Harleen Quinzel could have become an ally or even a lover to one of his boys. Instead, she'd run into the Joker first and her brilliance had been snuffed like that of a shooting star.

"Why?"

She smiled, but this time, it did not inspire adrenaline or battle readiness… it brought out a sense of empathy when he saw the fragments of loneliness and little bit of pain.

"Because…" she giggled, bringing out the armor of Harley Quinn to cover that small splinter of the person she really was. "It's fun, Batsy! Don't'cha wanna join us? It'd be a blast!"

The deranged gleam in her eye was back, and Bruce decided it was probably best to make his way to the door now that he had what he'd come for.

"Hey, Batsy," he paused obligingly, surprised when a small hand landed on his forearm, considering Harley's hatred for physical contacts. She smiled at him, soft and feminine for once, and patted his arm. "Sharp eyes, ears and mind, Batsy. I wish I could have met you before running into Mistah Jay."

He looked downs at the woman and saw a girl, instead. Because behind the jester's veneer she carried like a sword and shield, he could spot the shine of youth, innocence, brilliance and vulnerability. This child genius who graduated from high school with a full-ride gymnastics scholarship for Gotham U; who got her bachelor's degree in psychology at eighteen, her masters within a year and her Psy.D. in clinical psychology soon after. The untouchable prodigy who never got the chance to grow and he silently mourned the loss.

He reached up, tucking one stray strand of blonde hair behind her small left ear.

Then he was gone.

* * *

Robin and Batgirl met him outside, far from the base, looking on at him as he checked them over quickly. They were a bit scruffy from dodging the rigged explosives around Harley's hideout, but they seemed unharmed and not half-eaten by hyenas. Bruce glanced at Tim for an explanation.

"The hyenas found us first, roughly a dozen of them, and began to herd us. No matter our skills, their noses are too sharp for us to elude them properly, so they managed to bring us together and chase us into the first bomb. Batgirl reacted first and we shielded ourselves from the blast." He began his narration, moving his hands as he spoke. Batman kept half an ear on his explanation, a quarter on Cassandra at his side and another bit honed on their surroundings. Never was his attention solely focused on a single thing, except only moments before, when faced with the brief fragments of Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

"The continued to chase us into various other directions, each one a different path to a bomb. They're very well trained… but then they suddenly fell back, as if called, and began to howl. It was damn eerie, but that gave us time to reach the rooftops and go back to the rendezvous point. This brings us to the present. What about you, Batman? Did you get what you came for?"

Batman's focus momentarily fell on him, and despite the many years at his side, it still managed to inspire shivers to run up Tim Drake's spine.

"No, Robin. I left with more questions than answers."

**The End**

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**TEEHEE**

**It is comic book weekend, what can I say?**

**In psychology, you have about five years of study **_**plus**_** the time it takes for you to complete an internship. I actually **_**sped up**_** the process and totally **_**denied**_** the way they handled Harleen's studies in the Harley Quinn comics for the sake of giving her my own, since I believe that she was a true genius. In some universes of Batman, Harleen went to ****Arkham's Asylum for the Criminally Insane**** because her father was there and in others because she was, indeed, brilliant and wrote her thesis on the Joker.**

**When you study psychology **_**IN THE STATES**_**, you first get your bachelor's, then a short master's program and finally your specialization. You can go many ways, but there are two main branches: a Ph.D. (Doctor of Philosophy) or your Psy.D. (Doctor of Psychology). The Ph.D. is more theoretical while the Psy.D. is more practice-oriented.**

**Since Harleen wanted Criminal Psychology (and there is yet to be a specialization **_**that I know of**_**) you need either one of the doctorates in clinical or counseling psychology. Harleen didn't work in the rehabilitation unit at Arkham's Asylum, thus, I gave her a Psy.D. in clinical psychology, since that involves the application of science and behavioral studies (basically, they **_**diagnose**_**). Harleen's thesis was a thorough and spot-on diagnosis of the Joker, ergo, it felt like the right choice. **

**Did that make sense? Or did that just prove I am a total **_**nerd**_**?**

**Words: 3,900**


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